


Death's Flower

by DragonLover19



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Ghosts, Kidnapping, powers, roman gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonLover19/pseuds/DragonLover19
Summary: In the ancient times there were gods and goddesses that ruled the mortal world.One god had something stolen from him and he is NOT happy about it. He wants what's his back. Unfortunately, he can't leave his realm and the other gods and goddesses hate his guts.But...Maybe with a little... 'persuasion', he might get back what's his.Though, he didn't plan on having to resort to kidnapping the youngest god to get what he wants.





	1. The Child

High up in the sky, higher than any cloud could reach, higher than any mountain peak, higher still to the stars is the realm of gods. A land filled with prosper, with rare creatures that frolic in enchanted woods, with rivers that run with crystal waters, and stone buildings fit for kings of kings. Here gods are kings that dine on the freshest and sweetest fruits, living in laps of luxury and comfort.

On the highest mountain in the realm, in the largest building filled to the speck with knowledge lives the ruler of the gods. Zaman, the God of Time. With his power of time, Zaman was in charge to make sure that everything ran its natural course. Filled with infinite wisdom and knowledge, he was the most respected and well-loved amongst the gods.

Zaman’s daughter, Lyvia, was the Goddess of Beauty. Her beauty was unmatched and could never be replicated. She gifted young women with beauty and gifts of song. Many gods and mortal men wished to be with her, but Zaman, fearing his daughter’s arrogance for attention, kept his daughter away from prying hands by keeping her in the garden.

Lyvia didn’t mind as she could watch the mortals down below with the garden’s lakes. Every day she watched as the mortals struggled day in and day out, working and fighting against one another and finding it amusing when one should proclaim their love for her. But as the days went by, Lyvia started to feel an emptiness inside of her.

Day in and day out, she watched as mortal woman found love, baring children into the world. It left her envious for she had a soft spot for young innocents. She longed to hold a small child close to her chest, to sing sweet lullabies to calm their cries, to enjoy the simple outlook a child had on the world and teach a young mind the world around them.

But Zaman since refused to let her out of the garden or to let any man into his home, she could never have a child of her own with a man or god.

However, Lyvia was not without her cleverness.

If she could not have a child with another man or god, then she would have a child that she made herself. For long nights, Lyvia searched through her father’s ancient knowledge, looking over notes and studies for any hope to make a child. She asked her father, begging him if he had any idea how to make this child without a man.

Zaman, while not pleased of his daughter’s idea, could not provide her with any answers to her task. For how could child be born without both a woman and a man?

This did not stop Lyvia from trying to find an answer. Years went by, fruitless night searching her father’s study proved to be a useless chase. So, she called for the oldest god for help. Veleda, the eldest Goddess of Fates. Hoping Veleda had what she seeked, the younger god told Veleda of her woes and her desire.

Pitying the young goddess, Veleda whispered into her ear of what she deeply desired.

Joy leapt into Lyvia’s heart, and the goddess was filled with happiness. She thanked Veleda, setting off at once to fill out her heart’s desire.

With her new knowledge, she quickly set to work making her child. She told her father of her plan, begging him to gather what was needed to make her child. Hesitant, Zaman carried out his daughter’s wishes, for he wished his daughter only happiness.

Gathering all that she needed, Lyvia set to work making her child. But it was not a task that could be accomplished in a single night.

Despite following Veleda’s every word and task needed, Lyvia could not make a child. Her attempts would end with failure, disappointment, and sadness, filling the goddess’s heart. Still, she persisted, determined to have her child, no matter how long it took or how many times she failed.

Night after night she tried to make her child, and night after night she failed. With each failure, Lyvia wept with sadness, not understanding how she could not make a child. She deeply believed in Veleda’s shared knowledge, refusing to stop till she had her child in her arms.

Many long nights went by, until the ninth month one night, when Lyvia’s stubbornness finally paid off when a child’s first breath cried into the night sky. Her many trails and errors had finally rewarded her with the child she longed for.

Her very own baby girl.

)*(

Once word had gotten out that Lyvia had brought the new little god into the world, many flooded the hill hoping to see this newborn. Zaman still kept many of the men away from his home, but allowed some gods to enter, bearing gifts for his grandchild.

“Oh my goodness! Look at her! She’s absolutely prefect Lyvia! Look at her little fingers~! And her pudgy face! That’s a face of a troublemaker, I can tell.”

Caitlin, the Goddess of Felines and Large Beasts, cooed at the new little god wrapped in fine silk blankets in Lyvia’s arms. She was short in height with a big build in her body, though she claimed that she wasn’t round and just pudgy on all sides. Her skin was dark with patches of white on her skin here and there, dressed in animal skins that made her look more feline if her tail and ears and cat like face weren’t enough.

“Oi! You said that exact same thin’ ‘bout me own kids! N’ they all turned out fine!” Someone shouted from across the room.

It was the well-known God of War, Coriander. He was an oddball god, not only for his short stature and even shorter temper, but for always wearing his armor and never taking it off, even when there was no war going on. No god or mortal has ever seen his face due to his large helmet and bright golden orange hair covering his eyes.

“Are you still wearing that dusty thing?! For the Sisters sake, take it off! That thing is covered in blood and who knows what else!” Caitlin chastise, her tail swishing to and fro. “In fact, don’t come any closer than where you are! I don’t want you making the baby sick!”

“But Ah want tae look at the lil’ one!”

“Darling, your own wife wouldn’t let you hold your kids in that thing.”

The hairs on Coriander’s neck stood on end, bristling with anger as he quickly turned on his heels and hissed. “Shut yer peck neck mouth Grunde!”

Grunde, the God of Music, simply smiled easily as he smoothly stepped around the smaller god. Grunde was a more easy going god than the rest, favoring as what he called, a time before it reaches its popular. He dressing was questionable as his clothing covered most of his body in a red scarlet that had stone sewn in, making him sparkle in the light. Not to mention how he had asked the builders for his sandals to have very questionable extensions, making him just as tall as the rest of the gods around him. While his dressing was questionable, it was his hair that caught most attention. Every dark hair on top of his head was somehow pulled up into a large bouncing ball of puffy hair.

No one was sure how the god had managed such a task, or how he could do such absurd thing and somehow managing to make it look fitting on him. Maybe it was his bazaar nature. Maybe it was just how he was. Or maybe, just maybe, he did it all just to annoy Coriander.

It was well known that the two had a long lasting rivalry. No one knows or remembers how their rivalry began, but it was clear that the two would never truly get along with each other.

“My my! So this is the new little god I’ve heard about!” Grunde made his way over, taking in the sight of the newborn. “Magnificent! She is truly stunning! Almost like her mother!”

Lyvia blushed, hugging her daughter close. “She has father’s blue eyes and my fair skin. I’m hoping that when she gets older, she’ll have my singing talent and father’s wisdom.”

“A grand thing to hope for darling!” Grunde cheered. “It will be a grand day to hear two lovely ladies singing together!”

“Jus’ as long as ya don’t spread yer gaudy taste in fashion to the child!” Coriander shouted. “We suffer ‘nough with you lookin’ like a walkin’ tomato!”

Grunde’s face turned red with anger, spinning around and storming up to Coriander where the two started shouting insults at each other that were so loud, gods could hear it from four corridors away.

The baby in Lyvia’s arm started to squirm as the shouting from the two gods disturbed her nap. Her face scrunched in discomfort and as the shouting continued, getting louder and louder with each insult, she started to cry.

“Now look what you to idiots have done!” Caitlin growled, her eyes turning sharp with anger. “You went and disturbed the baby!” With an angry growl, she stormed over to the two, grabbing each of them by the neck and dragged them out of the room. “If neither of you can behave, then you shouldn’t bother showing up!”

Lyvia could only watch as the two gods were dragged out of the room with loud protests before her attention went back to her crying child. “Shh, it’s okay young one. Mother is here. I’m here. I’m here.” She whispered soft words to her child, rocking herself back and forth till the child’s cries settled into whimpers and then lulled to slumber.

“I’m impressed.” A deep old voice startled the young god, but relaxed at the sight of her father standing in the doorway. “You hadn’t had her for more than one night and already seem like a natural at this.”

“Father. I didn’t see you there. Have you’ve come to lecture me again?”

Zaman chuckled, rubbing his short white beard. “No, no. I just wanted to see my daughter and her child.”

“Then come say hello. She is your granddaughter.” Lyvia smiled, beckoning her father forward and showing her child with love. “Isn’t she wonderful? One day, she’ll be big and strong and ruling over the mortals like a real god. And she will be well known to all.”

“Don’t make hasty predictions just yet my child. Let her be a child for now and a powerful being later.” Zaman lightly touched his grandchild’s cheek. “I want to enjoy having a grandkid around for a long time.”

Lyvia giggled, kissing her child’s head.

The happy moment did not last however, as the room suddenly felt cold and dead. Lyvia’s eyes were suddenly wide with fear and her skin turned a pale color. Zaman’s three eyes narrowed, turning towards the doorway where cries of shock and horror were emanating.

“So our final guest has arrived.” Zaman spoke slowly, his cape fluttering as he stepped out of the room and made his way to the main room where it was filled with gods and goddesses. They all were pressed against the walls, fear etched onto their faces as whispers filled the room with eyes trained on the one lone being that stood in the center.

The being was tall, taller than any god in the room. Even taller than Grunde without any silly sandal extensions. The being was covered by a dark cloak that concealed their identity, standing tall and straight that demanded respected with their hood covered head held high and their golden eyes void of any emotion other than disdain and irritation glowing in the darkness deep inside the hood.

“ _What’s_ he _doing here?_ ”

“ _No one has died yet have they?_ ”

“ _Gods don’t die! We’re immortal!_ ”

“ _Has he come to curse the child?_ ”

“ _How evil!_ ”

“Well! How… unexpected to see you here.” Zaman smiled, though it seemed forced and lacking of any real qualities of a smile. “What brings the God of Death to my humble home Se-?”

“Do **_not_ **speak that name to me.” The dark god hissed through gritted teeth, pulling his hood back. “That name was given by mortals. I refused to be associated with anything they may claim to know about beings like us.”

Zaman frowned. “Come on, you don’t really expect us to call you by that ridicules name you keep insisting to use. Sepht—”

“ _Snatcher!_ It’s Snatcher!” The god hissed, his tongue flicking in and out like a serpent. “You better do well to remember that Tim!”

“Now there’s no need for you to get angry… Snatcher.” Zaman sighed with reluctance. “And why do you keep calling me Tim? I never get that with you.”

“Tim just seems like a you name.” Snatcher shrugged.

“Oi! Is there a reason where yer here spook?! Or did ya jus’ come here tae spoil the party?!” Coriander shouted, being one of few brave gods to not back down from Snatcher’s unsettling presence. Caitlin slapped him behind his helmet as Snatcher glanced over his shoulder, his long black locks falling like a river that raced down his back.

“Well if it isn’t the whole gang.” His mouth twisted into a wide unwelcoming grin that took up half of his pale face. “CC, Grooves… you.”

Coriander fumed, and Caitlin with several gods rushed to restrain him before he could do anything risky.

“As much as reunions are fun, I’m here for more serious matters.” Snatcher turned to glare at each god and goddess. “It seems that _someone_ thought it was funny to sneak into my domain and rip a piece of my cloak out.”

With dramatic flair, Snatcher threw open his cloak, revealing his thin body and a massive noticeable tear in his cape. A silence over took the room as everyone stare in shock at the noticeable tear in the cloak.

“Now, normally I should feel offended. Immensely angry as well. But! Since this is a special day celebrating your grandkid’s birth Timmy, I’m feeling oddly… generous.”

Zaman cringed at the nickname, trying hard not to look Snatcher in the eye. “And what would that be?”

“It’s simple!” Snatcher threw his arms wide. “All I want is the culprit to step forward so we can have a… little _chat_ down in the Underworld. We wouldn’t want to spoil this day any further now do we? Now, will the offender please step forward?”

No one moved.

They all remained in place where they stood, eyeing the Underworld Lord warily. Zaman could see the fear on their faces. No one wanted to step forward. And for good reason. Snatcher wasn’t called the Lord of the Underworld without reason.

For a god with thin, almost bone and lanky build, he was no pushover. His power was almost unmatched next to Zaman’s, with a dark thirst for war and gruesome battles that led to the death. Most had heard rumors that since he got tired of trying to wash out all the blood in his clothes, he wore dark colors to hide his enemies blood. And dark was right.

All his clothes, to his shirt and gloves, to his barbarous choice to wear pants. Even his boots were dark in black color. What type of god wore **_pants_**?!

It was uncivil for the Sisters sake!

“Come on people. It’s not really like you’ve got any choice in the matter. I just want what’s mine back, and we can all go our separate ways! It’s that simple!”

“Well maybe the culprit isn’t here, have you thought of that?!”

Heads turned to the doorway. Lyvia stood there, shaken and holding her child tightly in her arms.

“Y-You… you are not welcomed here Lord of Death! This is supposed to be a happy time for celebration of my daughter’s birth.”

“Lyvia, don’t dare draw any attention to yourself!” Zaman hissed.

“Oh! So it’s a girl then?” Snatcher strode forward, taking long strides with his long limbs. “I’ll admit that I was a little curious to see if the rumors were true about you having a kid. Guess they were right!” He shoved aside Zaman as the older god tried to stop him, stopping to stand in front of Lyvia and grin down at her. Since he was so tall, he had to bend over just to look her in the eyes at her level but still towering over her.

Lyvia was frozen on the spot as the God of Death stared her down. She couldn’t move nor grab up the courage to look away from the cold dead golden eyes that seemed to pull her in and drag her into an abyss that was slowly both drowning her and sucking her soul right out of her body.

“Peck neck spook!” Coriander shouted, drawing Snatcher’s attention away from Lyvia, snapping her out of whatever trance she was in as she gasped for air and almost lost her strength to stand.

“Hey now! We don’t need foul language around the kid! I’m sure Lyvia would appreciate if you didn’t taint her kid’s innocence with such dirty language. After all, little… I sorry, what was the kid’s name again?”

Lyvia jumped back as Snatcher turned his gaze on her again. This time she managed to keep her eyes down and not look into his eyes. “Get out. Get out if you are not here to celebrate my child’s birth and only intend to bring disaster. Like you always do.”

Snatcher scoffed. “If you can’t even look someone in the eye to tell them off, then there’s no way they’ll listen to you.” He turned his gaze to the child.

Wide blue eyes stared at him, woken by the commotion and found a new stranger staring at them.

Snatcher grinned as he leaned down close to the child, his grin widening as Lyvia shivered with fear. When his face was close enough, his skin darkened and his jaws pulled back, showing off his rows of long thin sharp teeth as his eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, hissing like a snake with a fork tongue dragging across his fangs.

The child’s eyes widened. Everyone braced themselves for the child to burst out crying. Scarred forever with a deep terror of the dark ruler.

But to everyone’s surprise and shock the child did burst out.

Laughing.

Snatcher reeled back in shock, his face returning to its normal dead pale skin and dark bags under the eyes. He stared at the child that continued to laugh at him, smiling brightly with her eyes twinkling with joy.

“… you… need to have that kid checked out.” He grumbled, backing away slowly with his eyes never leaving the child before turning around and storming out of the building with his torn cape fluttering behind him.

Once everyone was sure he was gone, their eyes turned to Lyvia and her child. The new mother stood there in shock. What had her child just done? Did she really just laugh in the face of death? She looked to her child, seeing her yawn and snuggle against her chest, falling right back to sleep.

“… Whelp! It’s official!” Coriander drew everyone’s attention. “Ah like this lass!”

“Are you drunk Coriander?!”

“Lyvia’s child just _laughed_ at the **_Lord of DEATH!_** ”

“That’s not normal! Even for a god!”

“But that’s where yer wrong! Lyvia’s child ain’t normal! The lass was made by Lyvia n’ her alone with no spouse! Ya can’t blame her or the kid fer that! We’ve never seen a god bein’ created out of the usual way, so we can’t really expect anythin’ normal!”

Murmurs drifted in the air as Zaman reached for his daughter, guiding her someplace to sit down after the whole ordeal.

“N’ besides, that peck neck had it comin’! He’s been a knife tae our side fer as long as we can remember.” The murmurs turned into agreements as many recalled the many ‘pranks’ the Snatcher had oh-so-kindly given them over the many, many years. “Ah say that it’s high time that spook was put in his place. That it was time we put him where he belongs! Fer him tae keep out of our business n’ stick rrrrrrrright where it can go!”

Cheers erupted and soon the whole room was in uproar, throwing insults and crud remarks about the Snatcher. Caitlin and Grunde watched as the room slowly turned into a crazy party that was supposed to be a celebration of a birth of a child.

“… please tell me most of them weren’t drinking when them came to this party.” Caitlin sighed, rubbing her face as a headache started to form.

Grunde sighed as many gods took out goblets and filled them with the finest wine. “Before, during, and probably after the party darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grunde is Grooves  
> Caitlin is Cooking Cat  
> Coriander is Conductor  
> Makes sense?  
> GOOD


	2. God of Corpses

“Stupid kid. Stupid gods.” Snatcher grumbled, stomping down the seamlessly endless steps that descended down to his realm. A realm that only housed beings that had left the mortal world for good, where there is nowhere else to go when their life came to an end. A domain that had many names.

The Underworld. The Realm of the Death. The Underground. The Forsaken Place. The Domain of the Snatcher.

Pretty much those names were enough to fill in the mortals and gods alike of what was down there. Being the God of Death, souls of mortals were sent to his domain to be dealt with after their parting from the living world. It was his sole duty alone to do this task, whether he liked it or not.

And he didn’t mind it one bit.

In fact he liked that he was the God of Death. If it meant that others feared him and left him alone, then he didn’t mind reaping a couple hundred souls each day. It was fun to see others squirm in his presence, fearing when he might snap and attack them or prank them out of the blue. He may be the God of Death, but he had to have some fun once in a while.

He took in the site of his world as he reached the final step, standing on it as his eyes gazed over the world he ruled. Some would say that his domain was a dark place that didn’t even have a speck of light in it, but he could prove them wrong once they saw what a wonder his world was. It was like a kingdom of darkness, the only light coming from the pools filled with souls he had yet to judge, varying from bluish greens to deep purples and sky blue. As long as it wasn’t _too_ colorful, his world was perfect.

“Boss! Boss!”

Almost perfect.

“What is it?” Snatcher sighed, stepping off the final step, letting the earth return to its natural state as it closed up behind him for another year before he could leave again.

His minion, one of many identical beings that swore their service to him, fell to the ground in front of him in a clumsy manor. Picking themselves up, they stood tall, or as tall as their pudgy small round body could only reach the height just half way to his knee. “Boss! Thank the Sisters you’re back! We just got a new batch of souls! It seems like a bunch a them had drowned.”

Snatcher rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “That’s the third time this month. Honestly, how many idiotic mortals are going to die before they realize that fishing out in a storm is NOT a good idea?!” He walked past the minion, grumbling to himself as he went deep into his domain. “What’s the status on our current pools?”

“W-well, we’ve managed to sort out all the young and old into the pools they should go in. Few have tried to escape.” The minion followed behind him, listing off the things that had happened while the deathly ruler was gone. “The dogs were getting restless after you left so we set them lose on some damned souls to keep them occupied. A child recently died of an illness. Someone was stabbed to death. Moonjumper is here. And we still—OOF!”

The minion fell backwards, looking up at the long black hair of their master.

“I’m sorry.” The minion coward as Snatcher slowly turned around, his eyes illuminating in the darkness, staring down the minion. “Did I hear that right? Did you just say, _Moon. Jumper. Is **here?!**_ ” A deep growl emanated within Snatcher’s throat as his cape began dancing with power.

“I-I-I-I-I’M SORRY! We tried to send him away but he wouldn’t listen!” The minion shook with fear as the dark serge of Snatcher’s power radiated. “He insisted that he needed to see you urgently, but you weren’t here!”

“ ** _WHERE IS HE?!_** ”

“AT THE TEMPLE! HE’S IN THE TEMPLE!” The minion openly wept as Snatcher growled with rage, running towards his home.

)*(

The home of the God of Death was, as the other gods described it, not as fancy or well lavished as all the other homes of the other gods and goddesses. It wasn’t made out of white stone marble, but black cracking earth and vines with sharp thorns that held it together. It was just as big as any home fit for a god, maybe even bigger than the rest of them, but was not very appealing to look at with crumbling pillars, broken floors, skeletons of the many deceased used for decorations and furniture, and bodies of past intruders hung on the ceiling to show as an example.

But while the other gods and goddesses would find the thought of going to such place disturbing if not revolting, there was in fact one god who did not mind Snatcher’s strange taste of design.

And the only god to get on his nerves.

“ ** _MOONJUMPERRRRR!_** ” Snatcher screamed as he burst open the doors of his home, forgetting to restrain himself as his power tore the rotten wood off their hinges and clatter to the ground in pieces.

“Ah! So he finally arrives! Though I can see he’s quite angry as a beehive!”

Snatcher growled as he spotted the god sitting in his favorite chair with a bowl of grapes in his hand. “What are you doing here you pathetic excuse of a god?! You aren’t allowed in the Underworld without permission from me!”

The god merely grinned, plucking a grape and popping it in his mouth. “Permission from you? Oh how silly but true. While indeed most do, I however can pop in and out of the blue.”

Snatcher stormed his way up to Moonjumper, slamming his claws into the seat’s armrests and growled dangerously. “I **_REALLY_** insist that you stop with your ridiculous habit of rhymes you—”

“Temper temper! There’s no need of this distemper!” Moonjumper rose from the seat, shoving the bowl in Snatcher’s hands. “I only came for a visit! Now that’s not such a crime, is it?”

The god giggled, going around Snatcher as he threw the bowl filled with fruit away. Most would say that the two were look similar to one another. But while their faces did seem to mirror each other, that is where the similarity ended. While Snatcher was thin, bony, pale skinned, golden eyes, had wild long hair that reached to the floor, covered in darkness and wore pants, Moonjumper was a class of his own with his short pure white hair, blue skin, bright red colored clothing with chains wrapped around his torso and neck, wild red eyes, and scars covering his face.

And majorly legless. Everyone could spot the lack of legs from miles away. And it was no secret to how he lost them in the first place.

“You little pest! How many times do I have to beat it in you that I do not want you here?! You have your own domain! Go use that instead of here!”

“I do not wish to be this pestering! I only dropped by to see what your mind is festering.” Moonjumper grinned, floating around Snatcher. “You seemed quite tense, I should know. Tell me, what’s bothering you so?”

“I don’t need to tell the likes of you!” Snatcher shoved past Moonjumper. “I know your tricks God of Corpses! Don’t think for a second that I won’t know what you’re up to!”

“But that is not true! I really came to see you!” Moonjumper followed him, keeping a distance between them in case the Death God decided to get a little… slashy. “Say all you want with your skilled tongue of lies, I can see it in your sad eyes.”

“Stop following me.” Snatcher growled. “I’ve already got enough to deal with, and your visit is **_not helping_**.”

“Indeed all this talking isn’t much help. Shouldn’t you be searching for the thieving little whelp?”

Snatcher froze in his tracks. He slowly looked over his shoulder, glaring at the other god behind him. “How… did you know something was stolen from me?”

Moonjumper clicked his tongue, waging his finger at Snatcher. “Oh silly Snatcher, can’t you see? There’s a connection between you and me. Though knowledge and memories we do not share, you tend to let you emotions go wild without care. Though it was only just very brisk, I could feel that the balance of the world is at great risk.” He grabbed to cloak that Snatcher never took off, pulling it up so that the tear was visible for both of them to see.

“For such a precious item that you deeply tend with care, seems that someone defiled it with a horrible tear.”

Snatcher swatted Moonjumper’s hands away, tugging the cloak close to him.

“This act is quite shameful, but who is very blameful? Mortal or god? This act has got me quite awed! For stealing a piece of the cloak that belongs to none other than you Snatcher, must be feeling deep satisfactory and rapture.”

“If it were a mere mortal that stole from me, they would die instantly when they touch the piece even by a little.” Snatcher glared at the tear. “No mortal can do such a task and get away with this without consequences. Even with help from another god, the task is impossible.”

“Ah! But to have a piece taken under your nose and gone! It seems that impossible was in fact improbable along.”

Snatcher shot a dirty look at Moonjumper. “… I don’t have time to deal with you. I have work that needs my attendance.” With that he stormed off, leaving Moonjumper to giggle madly at nothing.

)*(

“Thank you for coming Caitlin. I know this was sudden with what happened earlier today and with your help with the guests.”

“It’s no trouble! I was happy to help! Plus, I hadn’t had the chance to use my whip on someone for a long time now so I felt it was necessary for some practice.” Caitlin grinned, patting her trusted whip hooked on her belt. “Besides, I wanted to see the little cutie again~! I just can’t get enough of his tiny little fingers~!” The goddess purred, making Zaman laugh happily.

“Yes. Lyvia has certainly made a cute… child…”

“… Is something the matter?” Caitlin asked, noticing the sad look in Zaman’s three eyes.

“It’s nothing old friend. Just… Lyvia never showed any deep desire for anything other than looks before. I knew she had a soft spot for children, but… to go this far to make one. Without a partner no doubt. I… I honestly don’t know how to feel! I would never allow her to sleep with any man of course! She’s still too… too arrogant I fear. I feel like she only did it for attention and has no real desire to care for her daughter.”

“Zaman, old friend, do not worry!” Caitlin took Zaman’s hand between hers, grasping it tightly. “Your daughter is taking a big step. Motherhood is rewarding and learning. She will learn to be less immodest as she cares for her new child and learn to take her responsibility well. She now has someone who will depend on her and rely on her to take care of them. I’ve seen plenty of new mothers in my time and she’s no different.”

“But what if she strays from her duty as a mother? Children need constant care after all. I would know this well when Lyvia was but a small child herself and I had to raise her on my own.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong dear friend. You were not alone! You had friends who were willing to help. And now, your daughter has friends that are willing to help her raise her child when she is in need of that help.” She gave her friend’s hand a squeeze.

Zaman sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “You… are a very wise old friend. And very right. I’m still worried about her, but I will give her a chance at being a mother.” His smile grew wide as his three eyes gleamed with a spark of giddiness in them. “And it will be a joy to be a grandfather. After all, someone needs to spoil my grandchild!”

“Oh you!” Caitlin slapped his arm in good fun as the God of Time roared with laughter.

“Father? Caitlin? Can you come to the garden please?” Lyvia’s voice called out from the garden, catching both of the gods attention. They shared a look before heading over to the garden.

The garden was a beautiful place, filled with flowers and fruits, with decorations that wild the imagination of any mortal, and small animals that played in the trees and sang lovely songs gifted by the goddess herself. Lyvia was seated by the edge of one of the many lakes in the garden, watching the colorful fish swim about.

“Lyvia? Is something the matter child?” Zaman asked, approaching her quietly as her child was sleeping in her arms.

Lyvia continued to stare at the fish swimming in the water before slowly turning her gaze to the moon. “… Father? How, high are the walls surrounding the garden?”

Zaman, taken by surprise by the question, shared a glance with his old friend. “Well, very high my child. Why do you ask?”

Lyvia looked away from the fish, fixing her eyes on her father. “Is it not possible to make them higher? I… would like them to be taller.”

“Now why in the world would you want that? The walls surrounding the garden are very high already.” Caitlin questioned, one of her ears tilting down in confusion.

“I know they are high as they are now Caitlin. And you are right to question my sudden request.” Lyvia stood up slowly so not to disturb her child’s rest. “But, please understand. It’s for my child’s safety.”

“The walls are tall enough for you not to worry for her safety my daughter. I made them myself and with the finest builders! Why has this worry come upon you?”

“…”

“… It’s… because of _him_ , isn’t it?” Caitlin’s ear flattened against her head, her tail dipping down low to the ground.

Zaman sighed. “Lyvia—”

“Please father! After what happened today, I’m worried for her safety! Not fearing the God of Death is one thing, but to laugh in his face is another! Have you ever met someone who has laughed in the face, the _actual face_ , of _death_ himself?”

Zaman’s mouth hung open, yet no words came out. “… well… no. I can not tell you who has done such a thing.”

“Exactly! You both have told me what he is like. He will not take this lightly! What if he tries to do harm to my child? Or worse, _kill_ her?”

“Now now! There’s no need to worry about that!” Zaman placed his hands on Lyvia’s shoulders. “Snatcher has used his one day of walking on the surface of the living. And he may be the God of Death, but he’s never taken a life of a god before!”

“But… but what about the Dark Days?”

The two older gods cringed, looking away from Lyvia.

“… Snatcher… does tend to hold a bit of a grudge against others.” Caitlin spoke quietly, her tail swishing to and fro. “I’ve seen firsthand of what he can do when he’s pushed far enough. He can turn things rather ugly real quick.”

Zaman sighed, rubbing his neck. “He’s an unpredictable one. With a variety of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Please build the wall higher father! My child must be protected from his wrath!”

Zaman glanced at his daughter, looking deep into her pleading eyes and found great worry deep within them. He looked to his grandchild, seeing the peaceful look on her sleeping face. So innocent and untainted by the world.

“… fine.” Zaman sighed with reluctance. “I shall see to it that the wall gets built taller.”

“Thank you father!” Lyvia threw her arm around her father, hugging him tightly. “Thank you! Thank—Oh!” Lyvia pulled back as her child started to cry. “My poor baby, did mommy startle you? Oh, I’m sorry.” She rocked herself, heading off for her chambers.

Caitlin watched as the young goddess walked away, turning to her old friend with a deep frown on her face. “Would building the walls higher even make a difference? Snatcher is a crafty one and you know that walls won’t stop him if he really will go after her child.”

Zaman rubbed his chin, stroking his small beard. “He is crafty. Too cleaver for my taste, and, dare I say, smarter than me and the Sisters. And terrifyingly dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries anything, but I’m sure he wouldn’t try anything so soon. But then again. It wouldn’t hurt to prepare and add a little guard to the place.”

“Yes, but would it be enough to stop him? He can be very persistent on his tasks, nothing will sway him from what he sets his mind on.” Caitlin huffed. “To think… he was once one of us on equal ground.”

“Now now. The past is behind us all Caitlin. What happened, happened. There’s nothing we can do now but more forward with time of the future.”

“… Zaman… how… how can you be the only god I know who doesn’t hold on to the past without a deep grudge? Everyone else seems to still hold it against him for what he’s done but you—”

“Caitlin, let’s just say for now that we all were young back then. Snatcher may almost be as old as me and older than you, but sometimes, you have to look at all angles before you see the whole picture.”

Caitlin stared at her friend for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. “I love you old fool, but sometimes, even with the cleverness of a cat, you still remain a big mystery to me.”

Zanam smiled. “Because too much curiosity can kill the cat.” He laughed as Caitlin gave him a solid punch to the arm, leading her back inside for a few drinks before seeing her off that night.


	3. Chapter 3

As Zaman had promised, the wall surrounding the garden were made taller. They were built higher and higher till the garden could not be seen and Lyvia was satisfied with it.

Still fearing that the God of Death would still try something, Zaman had put up a magical barrier that would not allow anyone inside unless they were invited in by Zaman or Lyvia.

Feeling that there was no way the Death God could harm her child as long as she stayed inside the garden, Lyvia raised her child in the safety of the garden, raising her each day with a smile as her child grew. To her first words to her first tiny step, Lyvia was beyond happy as the emptiness inside her melted away as her daughter grew stronger and stronger each day.

A few years passed and the young girl grew to a healthy child under the loving care of her mother and grandfather. She was happy and energetic, with a bit of mischief side as all children did. Though she never once stepped outside the garden, she was content.

But, there was one slight problem…

“Come on! You can do it! Keep at it!” Zaman shouted, encouraging the young child. “You’re halfway there! Come on!”

The young goddess was trying her best, keeping her hands out and concentrating as best as she could. It was a simple task. She just had to make a flower sprout out from the dirt. But minutes were dragging on, and at best all she did was make a tiny sprout poke out from the dirt.

“Come on! Come on! You can do it child!” Zaman continued to encourage. “Just a little more! Come on! I know you’ll get it today!”

The young goddess’s face was starting to turn red as she tried to make the flower grow more, her little hands trembling. Finally the young goddess gave up, panting heavily and arms falling to her sides. “I… I can’t…” She said between heavy panting.

Zaman frowned. “… well… that’s fine. You tried your best sweetheart. I think you might have improved too! See?” He lowered the pot so that the young goddess could see. “This sprout is bigger than the last one! Maybe even bigger!”

“Really?” The child looked at the sprout with excitement, though it quickly dashed. “It looks the same grandpa…”

“No no! I’m sure this one is bigger! In fact, this might just be a sign that you’re getting stronger with your powers!”

“It doesn’t feel like I’m getting stronger…”

Zaman huffed, picking up the small girl and lifting her up in the air. “Don’t be so down sweetheart! I know you’ll unlock more of your powers soon. It just… needs more time. That’s all.”

The young goddess frowned, looking at her hands. “But… what if I don’t get my powers? Mama says that all gods and goddesses have powers. What if I don’t get mine?”

“You will! I’m sure of it!” Zaman hugged her close to his chest. “You just… need to wait for it to happen, my dear. I’m sure one day soon you will get your powers and you will be the most powerful and talented goddess out of all of them!”

“… Really?”

“I’m positive.”

The young goddess thought about it, mulling over what her grandfather had told her. “… even more powerful than you?”

“W-Well I wouldn’t go _that_ far in power.” Zaman blushed, making the young goddess giggle. “But we’ll see when you get those powers of yours. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now then.” Zaman set the young goddess down on the ground. “Since we’ve got a long day ahead of us, what shall we do today?”

“Bunny and lion!” The young girl cheered, hopping up and down. “Bunny and lion!”

“Bunny and lion huh? Well then, who will be the bunny?”

“Me! Me! Catch me if you can!” With that, she took off, racing into the garden as Zaman chased after her laughing.

“Watch out little bunny! The big bad lion is coming for you!” Her grandfather teased as they ran in the garden, giggling and laughing as they raced through trees.

)*(

It is said that each god have a special room that shows their very personality.

For Caitlin, it was a roomful of cooking items with baskets and boxes filled with the finest ingredients. For Coriander, his whole home was filled with armors and weapons from the various wars he led and watched over. Grunde’s home was filled with mirrors and music, with sheets of paper filled with new melodies just waiting to be given to the mortals down below.

But Zaman’s room wasn’t such trivial things. Lyvia knew her father just wasn’t like that. No, his room was hidden from prying eyes, deep under the very home of the God of Time deep within the mountain. In the toughest rocks and earth, it was here where Zaman stored his most precious knowledge. Knowledge that was so great, so powerful, so mind blowing, that it was kept locked away from everyone in the world.

There was only one entrance, and that was blocked by a single wooden door with carvings of ancient times of the good old days of the gods and goddesses. Each carving mark a historic event that were so memorable, it changed the world. Lyvia never cared about the door’s design nor its history. Her only concern was what laid beyond the door. She was on an important quest. No that she didn’t want many others to know.

Her hands traced the rolled up parchment papers, taking out one that seemed promising enough. Carefully she read it, frowning deeply before sighing and rolling it back up and setting it in its proper place. Nothing. Ten scrolls in and she could not find what she was looking for.

“There has to be _something_ here that could help.” She mumbled, taking out a scroll and looking it over. When it too didn’t have what she seeked, she placed it back with a scowl. This was getting her nowhere!

“Come on father! You must have something!” Lyvia growled under her breath. “You’re the most powerful and intelligent god, yet you have nothing to what I’m looking for.”

When her search continued to be fruitless, she let out a heavy sigh and slumped into the only chair in the room, rubbing her temples. Her father was smart, very smart, but even he seemed to have certain limits for knowledge.

“I still have to try. For her sake.” Lyvia whispered under her breath, brushing back some of her smooth golden hair from her face. “No god or goddess has ever been born so powerless as she has. There must be a way to fix it!” She glared at the floor. “It must be _his_ doing. He must have done something to make my daughter so weak!”

She snarled but sighed and shook her head. She knew she could do nothing to the God of Death. Even if she knew he had done something to her daughter, she could not prove his guilt or risk having a full out war with him. The Sisters already had enough on their plate keeping the balance between him and every other god.

She turned her gaze upwards. She had been away from her daughter for too long now. She would try again tomorrow to search for her answer.

)*(

Deep underground where the dark realm laid, it was chaos.

Nobody knew this outside from the Underworld, but minions were bustling about doing their tasks they were assigned to. Some were cleaning, others were sorting scrolls and sorting away the few offerings made to their leader. Many were watching over the colorful pools, getting into black wooden boats with ladles, scooping some of the colorful water into large stone jugs.

The ruler of the Underworld was busy himself, working in one of the high towers he had set himself up in sitting at a desk with a quill and paper laid out before him, scribbling away with a deep look on his face. The desk was covered with glass vials sitting on top, filled with colorful water just like the pools outside.

Snatcher looked up from the current scroll he was writing in as a minion stepped in the room with a glowing jar. “And what’s this one filled with?” He asked, though judging by the red color the glow gave off, it wasn’t hard to tell what this jar was filled with.

“Killers. About fifty of them.” The minion set the jar on the desk on one side with other colored filled jars, taking an empty jar on the other side and left the room to go fill it with more souls. Snatcher sighed, reaching over the jar that the minion just delivered and held it up to his face.

Dozens of screaming faces stared back at him, all filled with fear as they swirled around in the red substance. Snatcher was just very unimpressed. He had seen plenty of faces of terror in his whole existence, and he found it rather dull and cliché. Grabbing an empty bowl and setting it before him, Snatcher pulled out the cork and dumped the souls into the bowl.

“Alright, let’s see. How about we start with… you.” Snatcher reached in and plucked out a soul that was more pinkish than red. He held it up but the end of its tendril as it squirmed around and about in his grip. “And what’s your life story?”

He grabbed the soul’s head, forcing it to look at him in the eyes. There was a pause as the death god and soul stared at one another. Nothing dared moved until the god sighed. “Alright, you’re good. I guess.” With a wave of his hand, the soul disappeared. “Now who’s next?” He reached in randomly, pulling out a deep crimson soul.

“You look promising.” Snatcher huffed as the soul glared at him. “Just how many did you kill to get this color?”

“BITE ME!” Snatcher blinked in surprise. And slowly smiled.

“Oh ho! We got a little talking soul here!” He poked the soul with his free hand. “Now isn’t that a rarity? I hardly get any souls that talk! So, why don’t you be a pal and tell me how many you killed so I can judge you.” Snatcher grinned, but it slowly fell when the soul laughed.

“Tell _you_ how many I killed? HA! As if I would ever tell you anything! Only the gods know what I’ve done and they couldn’t stop me!”

“Then why are you dead?” Snatcher raised a brow, having a feeling that he was dealing with a difficult soul here.

“Dead? I’m not dead! This is all but a dream! I know this is just a dream! And when I wake up, all of this will be gone an—”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Let’s get back to your kill count alright? I’m busy today and I don’t have time for your squabble.”

The soul looked at him offended. “You. You DARE MOCK THE GREAT KILLER OF BLOOD?! THE ONE WHOSE NAME SENDS SHIVERS DOWN YOUR SPINE?!”

“If I had the energy to care, then you would be sadly disappointed. Now about that—”

“THIS IS UNHEARD OF!” The soul roared.

“Life isn’t fair. Now would you—”

“I DEMAND YOU SHOW RESPECT TO ME! I DEMAND YOU COWER BEFORE ME! THE MIGHTY—”

The sentence would never finish.

Snatcher sighed deeply, shoving the bowl aside and rubbing his temples as a headache began building up. “Pecking soul.” He muttered under his breath. “It’s always the arrogant mortal souls.”

His mood wasn’t helped as a minion carried in another jar. Letting out a frustrated growl, Snatcher slammed his head on the table.

“Boss? Is everything alright?” The minion asked, setting the jar down beside the table since there was no room to put it on top.

“No! Everything is _NOT_ alright!” Snatcher slammed his fists on the table, making the jars rock so hard that some close to the edge fell off. The minion was quick enough to grab two, but wasn’t quick enough to grab the rest.

Glass shattered as soul filled jars hit the floor, painting the floor in bright colors against the dark stone floor. Mortal soul shot off with the intent to escape their judgment, but Snatcher hardly cared as he roughly got up from his seat and stomped over to the open window growling. His hands run through his hair, gripping the unkempt dark threads.

“I’m sick of these mortals! I’m sick of this job! I would kill myself if I could but I’m immortal!” He punched the wall, putting new cracks in the stone. “Mortals keep dying faster than I can keep up with! And they’re so stupid and arrogant and pompous and! And! URRGH!” He stomped his foot on the ground, making the ground shake with his power.

The minion wasn’t as lucky as the first time in catching the jars as more fell off the table and set lose the souls trapped inside.

“C-Calm down Boss! Please!”

“And what’s more!” Snatcher continued, grabbing his cloak. “Another year is about to go by with my cloak still incomplete! AND I _STILL_ DON’T KNOW WHO TOOK IT!” The god roared, summoning darkness in his hands and shooting it out the window. An explosion echoed somewhere in his realm, but he hardly paid any mind to it. He knew nothing was there so no point to worry about anything later, but he was still hot under his collar. Growling, he looked out the window, fuming hotly with an angry glare on his face.

“B-Boss.” The minion put the jars they managed to save on the floor, carefully walking towards the Death God. “M-Maybe you’re over thinking this? You can’t be sure if any of the other gods took your—”

“CAN IT!” Snatcher snapped, making the small minion jump and cower with fear. “I know it’s a god! It has to be!” He looked back out the window. “No mortal could have stolen that piece and live _this_ long. Even with help from a god. Only a god or goddess could have taken that piece. It has to be one of them!”

“B-But who would steal from you, Boss? No god is willing to come down here and take something from you.”

“The torn fabric says otherwise.” Snatcher leaned against the window, pondering with a scowl on his face. “But how they managed to do it is still a mystery to me. And to do it so well that didn’t even notice it happening…”

The minion dared to get closer to his ruler, sitting beside him while fiddling with the strings of his hood. “… What are you going to do when you find your missing cloak piece Boss?”

“Fix my cape of course. But.” Snatcher rubbed his chin. “I need to find out who took it first. And that itself is an impossible task. I can’t step out of my realm anytime I want, or other gods would think it’s another war on their hands. I can’t send any of you lot out there because you guys aren’t really that great in being sneaky. No offense.”

“None taken Boss!”

“And I don’t have a clue that could point me to the right god I’m looking for! I can’t go blindly attacking anyone or they might sic the Sisters on me!”

“They wouldn’t do that! You’re too important for them to send the Sisters on you!”

“And why would that be?” Snatcher glanced down at the minion.

“Because without you, the world would be too full with mortals! They would just keep living and living with no end or stop! And no one wants that!”

“Coriander would want that. He’s always screaming at me to let his battles go on forever.”

The minion perked up his head. “Then, maybe he took the piece of your cloak?”

But Snatcher shook his head. “No. There’s no way he could have done it. His armor isn’t fit for stealth and he would never take it off. He’s too proud of it to ever part with it even for a second. He wouldn’t dream of ever taking that helmet off. It’s too important of a compensation that he needs on a daily basis.”

The minion was quiet for a moment. “Well, how about anyone who has a grudge against you? Maybe that could help!”

“Oh sure, if you want to go through the whole list of gods who don’t hate my very existence!” Snatcher rubbed his face. “Every single god and goddess hates my guts to the core! There’s not a single god or goddess out there who wouldn’t try to plan something against me as pay back. Or even try to pick a fight with me.”

“Can’t go to the Sisters for help. Can’t confront the gods directly.” He sighed. “Can’t even leave this place for no more than a day each year to go looking for that piece of cloth.”

Lifting a hand to his face, he flexed his fingers as dark energy sparked around his hand. “Six years. Six, long, tiresome years have gone by. Yet I am no closer to reclaiming what is mine.” He looked out to his world. “Soon it will be exactly seven years since it was taken. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be lucky this year. Or maybe not.” He stood up, turning away from the window. “Maybe it’ll be another before I’ll find it. Or maybe two, or ten, or fifty.” He waved out his arm, and the jars magically reassembled themselves as if they were never broken.

“… Or maybe I’ll never find it.” He sighed, going over to the only two jars the minion had saved and placed them on his desk.

“You will find it!” The minion jumped up, running up beside their master. “I know you will! You’re Snatcher! The God of Death and Ruler of the Underworld! No one can best you at anything Boss!”

The minion couldn’t see it, but Snatcher’s mouth twitched into a grin for a moment before vanishing. The god sighed, rubbing his head. “Except steal from me from under my very nose.” He stood there for a moment before shaking his head. “Eh. That’s enough soul judging for now. Tell the rest of the minions to gather up all the escaped souls and sort them out for me for later.” He tucked his cloak around him, leaving through the door. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“Sure thing Boss!” The minion saluted as the tall immortal being disappeared around the corner. Once the Death Lord of was gone, they started grabbing some of the empty jars.

“My my. Has nearly seven years really gone by?”

The minion was startled so badly that they dropped the jars, breaking a few. They turned around to see Moonjumper lounging on the windowsill like an outstretched cat. “M-Moonjumper?! What are you doing here?! If the Boss finds out that—”

“ _Shh_. Sh-sh-sh-shhh.” Moonjumper placed a finger against his lips. “Now there’s no need to fear. There’s no need to let your master know that I’m here.” He smiled, levitating off the window and hovered over to the shaking minion. “I just by for a small little visit. That’s not such a crime now is it?”

“N-No. I guess not.” The minion shrugged its shoulders, but kept a clear distance from the god. “W-What are you doing here though? You haven’t been in the Underground for a long while.

“I have been absent for a long time haven’t I? Some much time has gone by. Let’s just say I’ve been a bit… busy. Nothing serious or fishy.” The god looked at the table, picking up a jar with his powers and bringing it closer. “The same cannot be said about your boss. Tell me, is he even close to finding what he loss?”

“If you were listening in on our conversation, then you should already know the answer.”

Moonjumper nodded his head, twisting the small vial glowing white with color. “Indeed. It seems, that your dear boss hasn’t gotten a lead. No clues or trails to follow. Must be hard on his pride to swallow.” He let the vial drop.

The minion gasped and doved after it, catching it just before it hit the ground.

“Can’t confront the other gods or that might start a war. Won’t go to the Sister for help, that he swore.” Moonjumper tapped the tip of his chin, frowning deeply. “Now this is quite the troubling situation. Clearly something he has taken with too long of hesitation.”

“Can you blame him? He doesn’t want to start a war anytime soon. It took centuries to fix the mess of the Dark Days for up above and down below.” The minion got off the floor, setting the jar down safely next to the desk. “Already two hundred years have gone by, yet the Boss sometimes still edgy when he remembers those days.”

“Edgy? Snatcher? Cringing to think back on his youthful energy? Now what happened to the God of Death I used to know? One who had great power to show?”

“You already know what happened to him. You were there.” The minion shot the immortal being a glare. “You saw the whole thing happen and you didn’t even give a peck.”

“Language! There’s no need for such foul mouth. I came here with the intent to help your master with assuage. And the thanks I get is a conversation gone south?”

“You? Help the Boss? Yeah right!” The minion scoffed, picking up some empty jars. “The last time you _helped_ , the whole Underground was nearly turned on its head! You better just leave the Boss be and leave it at that. He’s not interested in what you might have to say.” They started for the door.

“Are you even sure?”

The minions stopped at the door, looking over their shoulder at the blue god. “I’m sure of it!”

“Hmm, okay. You don’t seem too unsure. But just know that I came to help make the thieving criminal pay. If you say that your master doesn’t need my help, than it must be true… or is it?”

The minion blinked. “… What do you mean?”

Moonjumper hummed, putting one arm behind his back as he rubbed his chin with the other hand. “Well, if I had something taken from me for nearly seven years, I would certainly be unhappy and throw a might fit. And, as you know, Snatcher is quite infamous with his unequal rages, more than Coriander if you would gauge.”

The minion blinked again. Well, Moonjumper was right. Snatcher did have quite a tendency to throw a tantrum or two when he was really on edge. The minion shuddered as they remembered the last time the Boss got angry. They still hadn’t manage to fix that part of the Underground yet, even after all there long years.

“Yes, he has quite the scary reputation. Proven again and again through his demonstrations. With all those years gone by, who’s to say that his anger isn’t high? All that bottle up emotion can’t be too good, all that boiling rage energy building under his hood.” Moonjumper glanced at the wall, right where Snatcher had punched it.

The minion followed his gaze and cringed.

“Although, he seems to be managing it well so far. But, he might snap and break soon and leave anything with some nasty scars…”

The minion nodded their head slightly. Snatcher… wasn’t doing so well. Sure the Boss was good at hiding his emotions, but he snapped more and more as time went on and the missing piece of his cloak still hadn’t been found. And if it still wasn’t found for years to come, the minion wasn’t sure if the Boss could handle it.

“But if you’re so sure that he has no need of my good intentions, I shall take my leave and keep your master from growing tensions.” The God of Corpses floated towards the window.

“WAIT!”

Moonjumper stopped, gazing back at the small minion with a raised brow.

“Okay, m-maybe you’re right.” The minion fidgeted. “Boss… I don’t want admit it, but, he’s really getting more and more out of control with his emotions. The rest of the minions feel it too, a-and we think he might snap if the missing cloth piece isn’t found soon! Maybe.” They looked at the blue god. “Maybe… he could use your help? J-just a little! He still doesn’t like you that much!”

Moonjumper hummed, tilting his head one way. “… Alright, just a _little_ help for your master. Just to make sure we avoid any future… disaster.” He smiled, clapping his hands together. “And I know just the thing! I’ll be back soon before the first flower bloom in spring!” With that, he flew out the window as was gone, leaving the minion to wonder if they had made the right choice in asking help from the one god who Snatcher hated the most in the whole world.


	4. When?

“UNCLE C! UNCLE C! UNCLE C! UNCLE C!” The little goddess squealed with delight as she ran towards Coriander, jumping into his open arms and hugged him tightly as much as her thin arms could squeeze around his thick neck.

“Good ta see ya little lass!” Coriander laughed, smiling down at the young goddess in his arms. “Look at ya! Have ya grown some the last time Ah visit ya? Yer almost as tall as a wee sproutlin’ little tree!” He tossed her up in the air slightly, making the young girl laugh. “N’ heavy too.” The older god put her back on the ground, poking her stomach. “Is yer mother puttin’ some pounds on ya? Or is Caitlin over stuffin’ ya with her cookin’ again?”

The tiny god laughed, pushing Coriander’s hands away and stuck out her tongue.

“Oh Ho! You little cheek!” Coriander laughed, ruffling the young god’s hair. “Ya may be small n’ cute now, but soon you’ll be big n’ _str-r-r-rong_!” He flexed his muscles, showing off his broad arms. “Jus’ like the rest of us!”

The little goddess giggled again, poking the arm. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doin’ what?”

“The r-r-r-r noise! You did that while saying strong.”

“Ah. That.” Coriander chuckled, scratching his chin beard. “It’s nothin’ really lass. Jus’ _r-r-r-r-rollin’_ me r’s. Somethin’ Ah picked up spendin’ time with other gods up in Norse. Nice bunch of sorts they are there.”

“Tell me about them!” The young goddess latched onto Coriander’s arm, which the older god laughed and stood up to full height, lifting the younger god up with ease.

“No no. That’ll be a tale fer another time lass.” Coriander shook his head. “I’ll tell ya later when yer older.”

“That’s real soon! My birthday is coming up and I’m going to be a big girl!” The little goddess chimed, kicking her legs about as she struggled to climb up Coriander’s arm.

“Oh ya are? Well that’s some big news!” Coriander reached over and grabbed the young goddess, pulling her up into his arms before setting her on the ground again. “N’ how old are ya goin’ ta be big girl?”

“Seven! Grandpa says that I’ll have extra luck this year because he said that seven is a lucky number!” The young goddess held up seven of her fingers, smiling brightly.

“N’ it will be!” Coriander smile grew. “Once ya hit luck seven, good things are sure ta come yer way lass!” He sighed, looking off to the distance. “Ah remember when Ah was young. Ah was so full of energy n’ such a wild boy. Heh heh.”

The little goddess tilted her head. “Umm… how old are you anyway?”

Coriander, taken off guard by the sudden question, sputtered. “Gahuh?!”

“YOUNG ONE!” The young goddess flinched, looking over her shoulder as Zaman came over with a disapproving look on his face.

“We do not ask others their age! It’s very rude and inconsiderate!” Zaman placed his hands on his hips as the young goddess looked down on the green grass below her bare feet.

“Yes grandpa.”

Zaman continued to give her a disappointed stare before sighing and turning to Coriander with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about her Corian. She lacks the understanding of being mindful around others.”

“It’s no trouble.” Coriander cleared his throat, adjusting his helmet slightly and smiled. “Me own kids would ask the same thin’ when they were growin’. Been so long since anyone asked me age in a while.” The God of War chuckled. “Oh, n’ a, lass?” The young goddess looked up at him. “Ah can’t give ya the numbers, but Ah’m older than that _no good Grunde_. N’ certainly younger than yer grandfather that’s fer sure!”

Zaman punched Coriander in the shoulder, making the War God and the young goddess laugh a bit.

“Are you coming to my birthday party Uncle C? You are going to come this time right?”

“Yes, surely this time you could attend. Surely there won’t be any wars or anything important that might drag you away from enjoying my grandchild’s birthday. You’ve hardly ever attend all her other birthdays with your duty, but surely you will have time for this one old friend?”

“Can? WILL!” Coriander puffed out his chest, slamming his fist against his armor. “No war will be able ta drag _this_ god away on the lasses special day! Especially not her special number seventh birthday!” He ruffled the young god’s hair again, making her giggle and squeal.

“That’s good to hear! It’ll be nice for you to attend. Some of the others have agreed to come as well.” Zaman wrapped an arm around the shorter god’s shoulder, leading him with the young goddess following after them. “Hephaestus will be there, and Phlegon, and Caitlin, and Grunde—” The shorter god groaned at the name. “And I convinced Lyvia to invite a _special_ guest to the party.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

Zaman smirked, leaning closer to Coriander’s ear and whispered. “ _Dionysus._ ”

“… Nnnnnoooo!”

“Yes! Though I did promise Lyvia will be on his _best_ behavior at the party. _Wink_.” Zaman winked his left and upper eyes, making Coriander grin and drool a little.

“O-oh-oh-oh! You snake! Yer goin’ all out on this party ain’t cha? Ya hear that lass?! Yer party is goin’ ta be…” Coriander paused, slowly coming to a halt as he gazed behind himself.

The older gods looked back at the young child. She was standing at a distance where the garden ended at the temple door, looking down where the grass ended in smooth white stone. Her face was in a deep frown, looking between the green grass and the white marble stone floor, gripping the front of her clothes tightly.

Coriander frowned, turning to Zaman and dropping his voice into a low hush so only the Time God could hear. “ _She’s still not allowed out the garden eh?_ ”

Zaman nodded slightly. “ _Yes, unfortunately._ ” He replied in his own hushed voice. “ _Despite my many talks with my daughter, she refuses to let her own daughter out of the garden. No matter what promises I make to her, she will not budge._ ”

Coriander sighed heavily. “Yer daughter is as stubborn as a mule Zaman!” The God of War spun around, placing two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “OI! Lass! If ya want ta step inside, nothin’s stoppin’ ya! This is _yer_ home after all!”

The young goddess shook her head. “Mommy said I’m not allowed outside of the garden. She says that the evil shadow monster will get me if I even take one step outside!” The girl’s face twisted in fear, taking a few steps back.

Coriander looked at Zaman in confusion. The older god mouthed _‘What Lyvia calls you-know-who’_ and the god understood fully what the child meant.

“Lass, no shadow monster is gonna get ya! It’s alright ta come out of the garden.”

But the child shook her head again. “I don’t want to make mommy angry…”

“But lass y—”

“How about you go chase some of the rabbits, sweetheart?” Zaman butted in, placing a hand on the shorter god’s shoulder. “I bragged to your mother how you caught five last time on your own and she was very impressed. So how about you go catch some more and make your mother even more proud of you?”

The young girl smiled, nodding her head before running off into the garden. Both gods waited a moment before sighing and turning to one another.

“That was foolish of ya.”

“I know.” Zaman shook his head. “I know.”

“Zaman. Ah know it’s not my place ta say this, but yer daughter may be a _wee_ bit overprotective of her lass.” Coriander pinched his thumb and finger together. “It’s been years since that peckin’ spook showed his face up here n’ he hasn’t even done a single thin’ ta harm the little lass! Sure Ah know what he’s like n’ all, but he usually would have done somethin’, oh Ah don’t know, **_years_** ago!” He threw his arms up high, sighed heavily. “Ah don’t even think he would concern himself with the lass anyway! He’s more focused on that missin’ piece of fabric than a little goddess.”

Zaman looked at his old friend in surprise. “He still hasn’t found out who took it?”

“Not a hint or clue.” Coriander shrugged. “At least that’s all Ah can get out of him when Ah spot him along the sidelines. The spook didn’t look too happy the last Ah saw of him.” He scratched his beard. “Normally he’d be shoutin’ insults or watchin’ it all while eatin’ eh… ‘popped corn’ Ah think he called it? Whatever that is.”

“Well, he _is_ a very unusual god. Even on different standers.” Zaman shook his head, having long since stopped questioning the Death God’s strange quirks and habits long ago. Though, he was growing ever worried.

If what Coriander said about the God of Death still missing that piece was true, then it did not bode well. For one thing, if Snatcher still hadn’t found the missing piece for this long, then it was clear that a mortal hadn’t taken it. That cape he wore was very powerful. Too powerful for a mere mortal to handle, even in the smallest of pieces or tinniest of threads.

Zaman had seen countless foolish mortals who had dared enter the Underworld and managed to survive escaping the place go mad within days with just even a small string of Snatcher’s cape in their hands. The power that cape had could make any mortal go mad, even at great distances. He never touched that cape, it gave off an eerie energy that made him feel weak and sick to the stomach.

Thankfully Snatcher never stayed around too long for any long term effects to take hold, but now Zaman was concerned that one of the other gods might have indeed been the culprit of theft. And who knew how long it would be before the Death God took matters into his own hands.

“Enough about him for now. He hasn’t done anything that should concern us yet.” Zaman’s three eyes turned to his friend, putting on a hopeful smile. “What we should discus is what you’ve managed to find.”

Coriander frowned, gazing at the floor. Just seeing that already filled Zaman with dread and defeat. “Nothin’.” He replied quietly after a moment of silence. “Ah’m sorry Zaman, but there was nothin’ ta be found. Not even Alvis could help.”

Zaman drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. “… I see.”

“Ah’m sorry Zaman, Ah really tried ta find yer answer but there’s jus’ nothin’ there that can help. Norse n’ Roman gods hardly mingle with each other since the old days.”

“And the Sisters would hardly allow any magic or knowledge mix knowing it could make chaos in the process.” Zaman finished, shaking his head sadly. “By the Sisters, what am I going the do?”

“What can ya do? Zaman, yer very wise in some days n’ nights, but even you know ya can’t know everythin’ fer every little thin’.” Coriander patted his friend’s shoulder. “N’ not everythin’ is meant ta be known or fixed.”

Zaman looked at his friend with a sad smile before it fell away. “I just want to know why my granddaughter is so weak in her powers.”

“Give her time lad. My youngest didn’t get their powers until they hit their teen years.”

“Your children showed progress with age old friend. But she still can’t make a single bud bloom without feeling great strain and exhaustion. I just… _don’t_ understand it. She should be getting **stronger** but no matter how many times the sun sets and rises again, she shows no sign of gaining her powers…”

The pair were quiet a moment, standing there as the winds blew by.

“… She should be getting stronger.” Zaman looked at his hands. “She should be showing… _some_ sign of godhood in her. But she has… _nothing._ ” His arms dropped to his sides, sighing deeply. “Not even a tiny speck of gold in her blood.”

“Hey now! Chin up!” Coriander moved in front of his old friend, placing both hands on Zaman’s shoulders. “Ya can’t get hung up over this. Everythin’s goin’ ta be fine. Jus’ give the lass some time. Look on the bright side! She’s alive n’ healthy n’ happy n’ she’s got you n’ everythin’ that she needs—”

“ **B҉U҉T҉ ҉S҉H҉E҉ ҉D҉O҉E҉S҉N҉'҉T҉ ҉H҉A҉V҉E҉ ҉H҉E҉R҉ ҉P҉O҉W҉E҉R҉S҉!** ҉” Coriander was suddenly pushed back, landing on the ground and staring up at Zaman with wide hidden eyes. “ **M҉Y҉ ҉G҉R҉A҉N҉D҉C҉H҉I҉L҉D҉ ҉I҉S҉ ҉A҉ ҉G҉O҉D҉!҉ ҉A҉ ҉G҉O҉D҉ ҉L҉I҉K҉E҉ ҉Y҉O҉U҉ ҉A҉N҉D҉ ҉I҉,҉ ҉Y҉E҉T҉ ҉S҉H҉E҉'҉S҉ ҉W҉E҉A҉K҉ ҉A҉N҉D҉ ҉P҉O҉W҉E҉R҉L҉E҉S҉S҉ ҉L҉I҉K҉E҉ ҉A҉ ҉M҉E҉R҉E҉ ҉M҉O҉R҉T҉A҉L҉ ҉B҉E҉I҉N҉G҉!҉** ”

Sparks of energy surrounded Zaman, casting electricity all around him that he was glowing brighter than the sun. Lightning bolts shot off, scorching and destroying items they landed upon, reducing then to dark ash and soot. The Time God’s eyes glowed with an unnatural blue, cracking with sparks. Coriander averted his away from the God of Time’s eyes, knowing those foolish enough to even gaze upon them would spell disaster.

“ **S҉H҉E҉ ҉S҉H҉O҉U҉L҉D҉ ҉B҉E҉ ҉P҉O҉W҉E҉R҉F҉U҉L҉!҉ ҉G҉I҉F҉T҉E҉D҉ ҉W҉I҉T҉H҉ ҉A҉ ҉B҉L҉E҉S҉S҉I҉N҉G҉ ҉O҉F҉ ҉O҉U҉R҉ ҉K҉I҉N҉D҉!҉ ҉Y҉E҉T҉ ҉S҉H҉E҉ ҉H҉A҉S҉ ҉N҉O҉ ҉G҉I҉F҉T҉!҉ ҉S҉H҉E҉ ҉H҉A҉S҉ ҉N҉O҉ ҉P҉O҉W҉E҉R҉!҉ ҉S҉H҉E҉!҉ ҉H҉A҉S҉!҉ _҉N҉O҉T҉H҉I҉N҉G҉!_** ҉”

A bolt of lightning shot out, bouncing around so wildly it could almost be mistaken as a lively phoenix. It shot down the halls and out the frost of the building, shooting up into the clouds and disappearing among them.

“Now! W-Wait wait wait wait! H-Hold on a moment!” Coriander slowly sat up, holding his hand to eye level to avoid looking into Zaman’s eyes. “Ya can’t say that Zaman! The lass doesn’t have nothin’! She’s jus’ late bloomin’!” He stood up slowly, trying to stay strong against the power the older god was exerting. “Ya can’t say that she’s got nothin’ when ya ain’t even sure if she doesn’t have anythin’ yet! N’ ya have ta remember, she’s not normal born like you or Ah.”

He could feel his words were reaching the older god as the power he was casting was slowly diminishing. The light was fading away as well, but Coriander still kept his vision covered.

“So what if she doesn’t show any sign of power _now_? What ‘bout later? Yer not sure if she’ll get it tomorrow or the next day. That doesn’t mean she’s weak! Far from it! Ya keep braggin’ how she keeps climbin’ up tree like a monkey n’ reachin’ the top fast like a bird! N’ how she races the fish in the pond up streams n’ round the lake like nothin’! N’ how she runs with rabbits n’ leopards n’ falcons’ fer hours! No mortal can do that! Most would only be pale compared ta that!”

The light kept dimming, as well as the power as Coriander kept talking till everything was still again. Taking the risk, Coriander removed his hand. Zaman stood there, standing on scorched marble stone with a shadow over his face. Taking an even bigger risk, the younger god stepped forward with a vigilant step.

“She’s not weak Zaman. N’ she’s not powerless. She may not show it now, but one day she’ll get her powers. N’ ya got ta remember she wasn’t born under normal circumstances. We don’t know much of gods who were born the way she was.” Coriander inched closer, reaching out with a tentative hand. “So ya don’t really know if she will ever get her powers or not. But ya have ta admit, she’s got some godhood in her.” His hand touched Zaman’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Jus’ give the lass some time. It’s what yer good with ain’t it?”

Zaman stood there motionless for a long time. Long enough for Coriander to wonder if his words reached him. “Zaman? Do ya hear m-OOF!” Coriander barely had time to catch the time god as he pitched forward, landing on Coriander heavily.

“Och! Been packin’ on the pounds have we?” Coriander grunted through his teeth, easing the old god down to the floor. Zaman blinked lazily at him as the God of War set him down on the ground, his three blue eyes looking up at his old friend questionably.

“Alright, there we go.” Coriander sighed, wiping his brow, clinking the metal band around his arm against his helmet. “Ah got ta say Zaman, fer bein’ one of the old ones, ya might want ta think ‘bout keepin’ yer emotions in check. Ya know what happens if ya let yer emotions get the better of you.”

Zaman was silent, but nodded. “… ‘m sorry.”

“Ahh don’t be. Jus’ glad ya didn’t brin’ the whole buildin’ down.” Coriander gestured to one of the many still fresh scotched spots. “Though Lyvia will sure have a few cows when she sees her pottery in pieces.”

Zaman groaned, hitting his head against his knee. “Blast it pecking… I-I’m sorry Coriander. I shouldn’t have exploded like that.”

“N’ Ah said it was fine.” Coriander waved it off, kneeling to eye level with his friend. “Though ta be honest, Ah didn’t think ya would get so worked up over this.”

“I don’t.” Zaman sighed, rubbing his face and feeling the years piling up on him. “I _shouldn’t_. I really shouldn’t be feeling so worked up about this. I should just be satisfied knowing that my granddaughter is alive and happy and content with just as she is… but…” Both gods looked out at the doorway into the garden.

The little goddess was chasing a white rabbit, smiling brightly with her eyes glistening with joy. Her hair trailed behind her like silk waving in the wind, her skin glowing like a star in the night sky. Her fits of laughter sounded as if music was dancing in the air.

“… But why do I feel that… it’s not enough?”

“… Look. Ah might not be wise as you are, or really all that nice of a god, but ya jus’ have ta have some hope that yer grandkid _will_ get her powers one day.” Coriander gazed sympathetically at his moping friend. “Maybe not _now_ … but, Ah’m sure one day she’ll get them. Ya jus’ have ta wait n’ see.”

)*(

𝔖𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰. 𝔗𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢. 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔢𝔢?

𝕀 𝕤𝕖𝕖. 𝕀 𝕤𝕖𝕖. 𝔸 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤. 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤.

𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝑒. 𝐼 𝓈𝑒𝑒. 𝒜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇. 𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝓈. 𝐼𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓎𝑒𝓉 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈.

˙uʍouʞ ǝq ʇı ʇǝl oʇ ɥʇɓuǝɹʇs ǝɥʇ puıɟ ʇou uɐɔ ʇnq 'pɹɐǝɥ ǝq oʇ ɓuıuɹɐǝʎ 'ǝunʇ sʇı suɹoɯ ʇI ˙uʍouʞun ǝɥʇ uıɥʇıʍ ʇso˥ ˙ɓuos ∀ ˙ǝǝs I ˙ǝǝs I

ℑ 𝔰𝔢𝔢. ℑ 𝔰𝔢𝔢. 𝔄 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔰. ℑ𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔰, 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔥.

𝕊𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟?

ℑ𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔞 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.

¿sɹǝʇsıs ǝɔɐld ǝʞɐʇ ʇı llıʍ uǝɥM ¿ʎɹoʇs sıɥʇ ɟo ʇɐɥʍ ʇnᙠ ˙sɐǝs sʇı uı ɹǝʇɐʍ ʎʇuǝld sɐɥ uɐǝɔo ǝɥʇ sɐ ʇsnɾ 'ɟo ǝɔuɐpunqɐ uı ǝʌɐɥ ǝʍ ʇɐɥʍ sı ǝɯı⊥ ˙ǝɯı⊥

𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔠𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔰𝔭𝔲𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔶 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱.

𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝓈? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹? 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒?

𝔏𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯. 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔖𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢. 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴, 𝔴𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱.

𝕎𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕦𝕤.

˙uodn pıɐl uǝǝq sɐɥ ʇı ʇɐɥʇ ɥʇɐd sʇı sʇɹɐʇs ʎɹoʇs ǝɥʇ llıʇ ʇıɐʍ llɐɥs ǝM

𝒲𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒶𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔.

𝔚𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡. 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡. 𝔒𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔡𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱. 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔣 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡?


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